The Release of Sisyphus
by Deos
Summary: Enji has always been obsessed with surpassing him. (All Might/Endeavor)
1. All Might

**A/N: **This has been banging around on my computer for awhile, I figured it was time to let it out. Be warned, it contains M/M slash.

_There is no decision that we can make that doesn't come with some sort of balance or sacrifice._

_-Simon Sinek_

Toshinori is on the way back from the grocery store when he is ambushed.

He has his hood drawn low, slouching and carrying his groceries loosely on two fingers as he turns up the street. Ever since his true form was revealed to the public, even something as simple as grocery shopping has become an ordeal. Before he was able to move through society because his weakness had been a secret. Now, even with his relocation, this trip will be the second time he's made it at least to the store without being accosted by anyone. Just the other week he had hidden for three hours, waiting out some over-exuberant fans that had seen him go into the Ito-Yokado.

Back alleys and side streets are something he's become very familiar with. People tend to avoid these areas unless it's for very specific reasons. The alley he turns onto is completely empty now, which he finds a bit odd; usually, it's crowded with groups of teens taking selfies in front of some very stylized graffiti of Hero Killer Stain. Too late he recognizes the warning sign for what it is when a broad form leaps out from behind a dumpster and pulls him into the shadows.

"What -" Toshinori starts, bringing one arm around ready to swing. The groceries slip from his fingers as he clenches his hand in a fist, his arm puffing into its muscled form reflexively for added weight. His punch is blocked by a sturdy forearm, and his groceries hit the pavement with an anticlimactic thud. Toshinori's arm deflates, unable to hold its form.

He's about to try a feint when he recognizes his attacker.

"Enji?"

Todoroki without his fiery beard and brows is almost unrecognizable, and with a cap pulled low over his blaze of red hair, his disguise is unbelievably effective. If it weren't for the stubborn set of his jaw and that sea-green glare, Toshinori might not have realized him at all.

The disdain twisting Enji's face is familiar at least.

"What are you doing?" Toshinori can't understand why Enji of all people would be here, pulling him off the street like a common criminal.

"You - how dare you - I _refuse_ to accept it -" Enji is almost panting, the words blowing from his mouth in low, sharp hisses. He looks positively deranged.

What could be wrong? Is he under the influence of some strange Quirk?

"Enji?" He's barely able to raise his arm, trapped as it is in Todoroki's iron grasp. Grabbing one black-clad shoulder, he gives it a squeeze. "Enji, are you alright?"

Todoroki finally seems to get ahold of his mouth. His eyes pop almost comically wide with fury, their whites rimmed red with strained vessels. " You can't retire! I will beat you - I will _earn_ my place as the number one hero!"

He squeezes Toshinori's arms, tight enough to grind the bones of his still-healing wrist. "What is with this weak form, All Might! Why are you hiding?! You have no right—"

Toshinori looks around nervously. Enji's voice is rising, becoming loud enough to carry out to the street. He really doesn't want to be discovered right now. Especially with Enji acting so bizarrely.

He shushes Enji, who only glares at him. A whorl of flame flickers to life on his chin before being snuffed out.

There's only one reason Toshinori can think of for Enji to turn up like this, and it's beyond just pestering him about his retirement. He wants answers.

_Hah, him and the entire world. _

Now that his secret is out, rumors had abounded, wild speculations regarding All Might's weakness that Toshinori had yet to quell. The only ones that know the true reason behind his form are a trusted few. He has forgotten how much of a shock it must be to see him like this, even among his own colleagues.

Enji wants answers.

Toshinori respects him enough to give them.

"Come on." He shakes off Enji's grasp, bending down to pick up the groceries. When he turns to head back down the alley he feels a hot hand snare his wrist again.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Enji really is as volatile as his Quirk. Instead of pulling away, Toshinori merely raises an eyebrow. "Home. Follow me, and I'll tell you everything."

Well. Maybe not everything. Enji doesn't need to know about Nana.

Pulling his hood low over his head, Toshinori sets off at a brisk walk. For the few first steps, he's actually pulling Enji along with him before the other man relinquishes his grip and stuffs his hands in his pockets with a snarl.

Home is a location Toshinori guards carefully. It's registered under a pseudonym, which makes receiving mail and paying the bills easy, but not much else. It's become a bit of a chore, keeping that sanctity. People recognize him. They follow him. And Toshinori will check into a hotel or flee the country before he gives away his home base.

Anyone else would think it sensible for him to quit grocery-shopping entirely. Most pro heroes choose a safer option, like delivery to their offices or having a sidekick pick up an order, but he doesn't want that. He's always liked his weekly jaunt through the city. Watching the news and listening to the radio is well and good, but hitting the streets is like having his fingers directly on the city's pulse. He's intercepted many villains just by being in the right place at the right time.

Today is the first time in a long while that he's been able to walk without being stared at. It might be Enji's presence that allows him to slip past, unnoticed. Even disguised as he is there's something about Endeavor that draws the eye. Maybe it's the bulk of him; Enji is broad and imposing; a lion trying to pass among lambs. He radiates a sense of danger that's almost as palpable as the Hellfire that usually licks across his skin. Toshinori, thin and unassuming by comparison is ignored.

Hm. Maybe he should have Enji hang around more often.

Twenty increasingly uncomfortable minutes later, they arrive. Toshinori fumbles with the key, feeling Enji's glower burning a hole in the back of his head, and unlocks the door.

He hasn't been expecting visitors. No one's been here… well, ever. He hurries to nudge his dress shoes out of the entryway, making room for both his and Enji's sneakers.

The apartment is modest, fairly sparse. Two bedrooms, just the right size for a bachelor. Until recently he hadn't spent much time here; most of his hours outside teaching have been spent coaching young Midoriya or else protecting the public.

The walls are bare, the sink has collected a few dirty dishes. A royal blue sweatshirt hangs over the edge of the sofa, emblazoned with UA's logo, and a ragged pair of socks lay in the living room where he had kicked them off two days ago. Toshinori hastens to scoop it all up on his way to the kitchen, chucking everything into his bedroom.

Enji stalks into his living room, eyes roving over the frayed tatami and particle board kotatsu, sneering at the modest flatscreen TV. Toshinori pretends not to notice. He places the groceries in the fridge, checks the eggs and finds that five of them have fractured in their cardboard cups.

Letting out a breath that is not quite a sigh, he takes a bowl and tries to salvage them. He can use them later to make tamagoyaki.

He's just picking flecks of shell out of the goobery whites when Enji loses his patience again.

"Well?" He stomps into the kitchen, hovering over Toshinori like an evil specter. The room feels palpably warmer, and it's not just in his head. When Toshinori turns to face him he can see flickers of flame dancing on Enji's chin like paper-thin whiskers. "You said you would tell me everything. Now talk. "

"Would you care for some tea?" Toshinori brushes him off, putting the eggs in the fridge and withdrawing a pitcher of pre-brewed green tea. Enji is a guest, after all, even if he's acting more like a—

"No, I don't want any_ tea!_" The flames flare brighter, large enough to singe the brim of his cap. He snatches it off with an ugly growl, tossing it onto the counter. Toshinori hastens to pour himself a cup and take a spot at the kotatsu before Enji's temper blows the kitchen up.

"Okay, okay." He takes a sip of tea, tucking his legs beneath the fluffy comforter. "You want to know why I retired." Enji stands before him, not even deigning to take a seat at the kotatsu. His arms are crossed, and he's sneering down his nose at Toshinori.

Toshinori pauses to take another sip and collect his thoughts. This is why he'd left everything so vague when he made the announcement in the first place, there's no good way to begin.

"A little over five years ago I fought All for One. When we fought he injured me severely, but I won. I thought I destroyed him. I made it off the battlefield and sought treatment in secret, and when I returned, All For One's body had vanished."

He still remembers that day, how panic and fury at the sight of the empty, bloodstained dirt had made him physically ill. The strain of pushing himself so soon after his surgery had triggered the worst of his complications.

"I kept the fight secret, to prevent the public from panicking. I didn't want them to know that someone like All For One might still be around."

His hand comes up to his left side, tracing the puffy scar tissue through the cloth. There's really nothing to do but show Enji the damage All For One had wrought, so he rucks his shirt up to his armpit, leaning back on one arm to display it.

For the first time today Enji's face pinches, twisting with something other than anger. He takes one step toward Toshinori before aborting the motion. His fingers twitch. Toshinori thinks maybe he wants to examine the scarring more closely and leans back obligingly.

Enji doesn't move. He merely watches as Toshinori idly touches the twisted mass of scars, then slides his shirt back down.

"They took out my stomach, part of my small intestine, and a good portion of my left lung. I don't absorb nutrients as well as I should; it's hard to keep my weight up, especially when I use my Quirk."

And that is the truth. Or, enough of it to make a decent excuse. Recovery Girl had hounded him for years after his surgeries with dire predictions of how his injuries would affect his abilities in the long term, but he had been optimistic and naive. Even as the pounds melted away, he had thought he would eventually rebound.

He takes another drink, reminded of how Recovery Girl had also warned him to cut back on the caffeine.

_"Your body will have trouble enough keeping up with the energy demands of an active hero, you don't need to make it harder!"_

She had told him that after his second surgery, the one that took an extensive portion of his small intestine.

"That last fight really took a lot out of me -" -_more like the last embers of One For All had burned out_\- "and I just… don't think I can keep it up anymore. I had to retire."

He shrugs, because that's all he can do in the face of his own helplessness.

The cup is almost empty. Talking to Enji seems to have parched his throat. He takes it and heads back to the kitchen, leaving Enji standing in the living room.

If he is to recover any semblance of his former strength, he really should choose a drink with more calories. He fetches the whole milk, and when he shuts the fridge he hears it.

Then he smells it.

Toshinori races out of the kitchen to find Enji ablaze. The shoulders and hood of his sweatshirt go first, curling and shrinking away as the cotton burns up, ashing all over the floor. Fire races in runners towards his waist, eating up the rest of his pullover even as Toshinori throws up his hands.

"Enji! Stop!"

He's putting off smoke, enough that Toshinori worries that he'll trip the smoke detector. But that comes secondary to the fact that he's blackening the ceiling with the tips of his flames.

"So, that's it huh?" Enji's voice is eerily calm despite the hot crackle rising from his skin. He completely ignores Toshinori's plea, continuing to burn merrily next to the kotatsu. "You quit. It got tough, and you decided you'd retire instead of working to stay at the top."

Toshinori contemplates dousing Enji with the dregs of his tea. Panic wars with frustration, clipping his tone just short of curt.

"No, Enji. I decided that I should focus more on raising the next generation of heroes than continuing my own work. I've finally decided to listen to Recovery Girl; my own health is more important.

"You and the other heroes have always done an exemplary job, I have no doubt that you'll rise to take my place as the number one hero, and the new Symbol of Peace."

_...at least until young Midoriya comes into his own._

The flames abruptly burn out. Toshinori breathes a small sigh of relief and goes to open a window. The temperature inside has risen at least three degrees, and there's a hazy layer of smoke beginning to form on the ceiling.

He's just finished wedging a stick into the frame when hot hands grab him, steer him around and shove him down into the couch. Enji stands over him, looking just as deranged as he had twenty minutes ago. He's shaking, lips pulled back on a snarl.

_"I don't accept that!"_

Toshinori doesn't understand.

"What-"

"This is not how this is going to go!" One of his hands, still wound in the collar of Toshinori's shirt jerks him a little. "I'm not - I won't accept being made the number one hero like this!"

Toshinori can only blink at him. "Why not? That's how it works. If a hero is removed from the ranks, everyone else goes up a -"

"I_ know_ how the ranking works, All Might!"

Toshinori is beginning to think he knows exactly what this is about. He remembers their chance meeting at the sports festival, how Enji had boasted that Shoto would surpass him one day. How he had_ made_ Shoto for that very purpose; a phrase that had disturbed Toshinori greatly.

"I will not accept being given the number one spot! I will_ earn_ it!"

Bizarrely, Toshinori is reminded of something Nana once told him: s_omething you get because you're lucky and something you're given because you're recognized are fundamentally different. _

He had told young Midoriya that, just before bestowing One For All on him. This is what Enji is telling him, in his own twisted way.

Why?

"Enji, you have earned it!" he tries to reason with him, placing one hand on the arm that still clutches him. The flesh there is feverishly hot. "You've been the number two hero for years! Who is more deserving of the spot than you?"

Instead of calming him, the words have the complete opposite effect. Enji's eyes narrow, and Toshinori feels a noticeable pulse of heat roll off him.

"I will beat you, All Might. Even if I have to drag you out of retirement to do it!"

And now Toshinori can actually see wisps of smoke drifting up from Enji's fist. He's about to send Toshinori's shirt up in flames.

"_Enough, Enji._" The bones of his arm twinge painfully as he swells the muscles in them, forcing Enji away from him hard enough that his collar rips free from his grasp. "I am retired, and that won't be changing."

Toshinori stands, towering over Enji as he straightens to his full height.

Enji smirks, a manic, slightly deranged twist of his lips. "Fight me."

The statement hangs in the air like smog, heavy and thick with tension.

"Why?"

A simple question, but one that Enji seems unprepared to answer. He gapes at Toshinori, mouth moving soundlessly for a few seconds before the words tumble out.

"Why - to settle this, once and for all!"

"Settle _what_ Enji?" Frustration bleeds into Toshinori's voice despite his best efforts to quell it.

"To settle who is the strongest!"

Who is the strongest?

The words clatter through his brain, strange and hollow. To settle who is the strongest. This harkens back to Enji's obsession with becoming the number one hero, he knows it. But for the life of him, he can't understand why it matters.

Number one doesn't mean anything to Toshinori. He had never sought the position; it was just the natural by-product of his success. His goal has always been to be a symbol of hope for the country. To crush evil where it grows and make the world a safer place.

And now here he is, the man who would be his replacement, demanding to fight him like some common villain.

The first sparks for real anger flare inside Toshinori now. This is ridiculous. A fight proves nothing, only wastes precious time and energy that could be spent confronting real evil. Does Enji's ambition for glory mean so much that he would forsake his duty as a hero?

"Do you think I'm stronger than you, Enji?"

Immediately Enji flares up again, flames leaping from his shoulders. "You are not stronger than me! I'd prove it to you now if you had the decency to fight me!" He looks about ready to start bouncing fireballs off the walls.

Toshinori watches Enji's face carefully, reading the subtle flicker of emotions there. A quickly-suppressed flash of envy. Bitter anger. But beneath that, something far older; a simmering well of ancient pain. Shame.

Why?

_Because deep down he believes Toshinori to be better._

Enji has always been obsessed with surpassing him. Toshinori hadn't minded; mostly considered it just competitive spirit. A normal occurrence between heroes, despite Enji's obvious distaste for him. His ignorance had let this spiral out of control.

Now that the man was standing in front of him, feral and twitching with anger he realized: Enji had wrapped his whole self-worth into besting All Might, had spent the majority of his life chasing a dream that was now out of his grasp. His mind couldn't accept it; the strength of his pride would not allow it. The gap between them had always been insurmountable.

Until now.

Unable to cope with the schism, Enji's psyche has cracked wide open. There's no way the old him would've approached Toshinori for a fight, his honor wouldn't allow it. Toshinori isn't sure the man before him can be a hero.

But Enji must accept it. The world needs his strength now. Needs him to fill the power vacuum left from Toshinori's retirement, to show the people of this country that there will still be a hero there to protect them!

What can he do? He can't fight Enji like this. And breaking that mindset will be close to impossible.

He has to think of an answer!

Toshinori's face is beginning to feel sunburnt. Close proximity to Enji's Quirk is something he can't tolerate for long without One For All, so he side-steps, trying to get around him.

Enji pulls him back.

"You really want to fight?" Toshinori asks, thinking quickly.

Enji rolls his shoulders, flexing his fists eagerly. " Yes."

"Okay. But I want another cup of tea first." Toshinori slips around Enji, and this time he is not stopped.

He pours himself another serving of tea, mind working furiously. How can he pull this off? A real fight isn't possible. Less than 3 weeks ago his arm had still been in a sling, after all. But Enji needs a win. He needs to feel superior to All Might.

This is truly a mess.

The cool tea is soothing against his lips, which have dried in the baking heat of Enji's Hellfire. One thing is for certain, if they are going to fight Enji can't use his Quirk.

He sighs, staring blankly at his reflection in the black door of the microwave. Heroes fighting heroes. What Enji is contemplating is madness. Sure, the competition between all Pro heroes can be fierce, but to actively try to crush a colleague? It's backward. Primitive. Only villains squabble so.

Lifting his cup, Toshinori feels an echo of pain in his right wrist where the bones are still tender. Throwing punches likewise is out.

It isn't until he is draining the dregs from his cup that he gets the first inkling of an idea.

It's a stupid thing. Nana would have said he was crazy for even contemplating it. But, if he is right - if it _works_ -

Toshinori leaves the kitchen and heads for his bedroom, bypassing the living room completely. He eyes the extra-long futon, unmade and rumpled. A pair of socks and black slacks are crumpled at the foot of the bed like shed skins, and there are a few teaching books piled up next to the lamp. The clothes make it into the hamper, the books shoved into the closet. He's even managed to tuck the comforter over the top of the mussed sheets before he hears the telltale _thump_ of feet coming down the hall.

"What are you doing?" Enji, his voice threaded with impatience stares down at him. Trying not to look too nervous, Toshinori gets to his feet and shuffles vaguely closer.

"Nothing. Just looking for my - my inhaler," he says lamely. He doesn't have an inhaler. Inching closer, he tries to make it look natural. Like he's headed for the nearby closet, and not directly at the man now blocking the door.

"Well, come on. I have a place in mind that-"

Toshinori seizes Enji and pulls him forward, hard. Not expecting it, Enji makes to catch himself with a step forward but is blocked by Toshinori's leg, spread low so that it catches right at Enji's knees. Using his own weight against him, Toshinori sends him tumbling face-first towards the futon.

But Enji, even caught unawares is still a pro hero. He handles the throw with ease, ducking his shoulders and bringing his arms in tight so that he somersaults across the futon and lands with his feet bunched under him, ready to stand. If Toshinori weren't on him in a flash, he might've managed to regain his feet.

Arm wrapped around that thick neck in a chokehold, Toshinori feels the muscles there bunch and flex, the rumble of Enji's strained voice vibrating against his skin.

"All Might! What the hell do you think you're doing!"

_He who rides the tiger can never dismount_, Toshonori thinks, half-giddy with hysterical amusement at his own daring. _At least all my affairs are in order._

"We're fighting. Didn't you want that?" _Calm. Keep your voice calm. _

Enji makes a sound like a strangled bull. Toshinori loosens his hold slightly, fearing that somehow he didn't know his own strength - but still the sound continues. After a few seconds, he realizes: Enji is actually inarticulate with rage.

_Oh boy._

"What- why the hell- are you kidding me? " Enji finally grinds a coherent sentence out, angling his head back to spear Toshinori with a gaze like frozen seawater. A chill creeps down his spine, causing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to prickle.

"No. I'm not."

Toshinori maintains eye contact, unyielding. This is a battle of wills, as deeply primal as the urge to eat, sleep, or fuck.

Fingers dig into his arm, pulling. Against such iron force he won't be able to hold out long, but he just needs to last long enough to outmaneuver Enji.

"If you wanna fight, I'll end you," Enji promises darkly. "But we'll do it right. Now get off me."

There's really only one place to hit him to assure victory.

"You're only saying that because you're losing." He keeps his voice easy and taunting.

"The hell are you talking about?! You're the one taking cheap shots -"

"If you're really better than me, you should be able to beat me no matter how we fight. You're full of excuses, Enji."

That's it. Cool. Unimpressed. A hint of boredom, just to twist the knife a little. Toshinori knows it's cruel of him, but this is the only way: stirring Enji past the point of rational thought.

With a growl that he can feel reverberate through his arms, Enji breaks Toshinori's hold with one hard shrug of his shoulders and grabs for his forearm.

Then the fight is really on.

In close quarters there's no room for sweeping kicks or roundhouse punches, just grappling. They lock arms like deer locking horns, each vying for a more powerful stance, trying to twist the other to the ground.

Within a minute they're both panting. Weakened as he is, Toshinori still has the advantage of height, and his long arms and legs allow him to keep Enji at bay.

Enji's torso is slick with sweat, incredibly difficult to grab. More than once he slips right out of Toshinori's grip like a greased shark, all bared teeth and barely-leashed violence. Toshinori is no slouch either; he twists and turns in his shirt as easily as a cat turns in its skin, thwarting easy pins.

The fight is hard and furious. Toshinori's room is filled with soft sounds of exertion, ragged panting breaths, and short, superheated grunts. He barks his toes on the wall once. Enji's flailing elbow smacks the window shutters, breaking three of the thin white slats.

Frustratingly, his stamina is currently abysmal; nearly a month of rest and recovery has been good for his bones, but terrible for everything else. He fatigues quickly, and the tide of the fight turns on him.

Enji twists his arm behind his back, his weight heavy on Toshinori's legs. He's facedown on the futon now, nose pressed at an angle, hot breath puffing out against the royal blue comforter in quick blasts.

The unyielding weight of a body bearing down on him is heavy enough that he can feel his ribs creaking. He reaches behind him with his free arm, tapping on Enji's leg.

_I yield._

It's a long few seconds before Enji releases him. Long enough that the breath hisses from him in pained squeaks, not quite able to expand his lungs fully. When at last his arm is released and the pressure is off his legs he rolls onto his back, looking up at Enji who is towering over him, looking pissed.

"You win."

Enji's mouth twists in a snarl. "Get up, All Might."

Toshinori does not. Instead he pillows his head on his arms, crossing his ankles as though he hasn't a care in the world. "No. It's over, Enji. You won."

Enji seizes the front of his shirt, hauling him bodily off the ground. He lifts Toshinori and shakes him, a terrier shaking a rat. _"That was not a fight!"_

"It's the best you're going to get." Toshinori touches Enji's bunched fists, and his hands are promptly smacked away as the Enji releases him forcefully. Enji's fingers flex and relax, as though itching to dig right into the meat of him.

Maybe that's what Enji needs.

"You can hit me, if you want," Toshinori offers, spreading his arms to expose his core. His shirt, which droops like a sail from his scrawny arms feels like it might as well be a matador's cape, waving on an angry bull. "It might make you feel better."

The sound grating out between Enji's teeth is almost inhuman.

"How dare you - you patronize me like this, All Might!"

"Not patronizing. I told you already, I can't fight anymore. This is all I have left." Toshinori smiles, saddened by both Enji's bullheaded pride and the cold spot inside him where the last embers of One For All have burned out. He can't fight. He won't fight. He's given Enji his all, and it's still not enough. If Enji couldn't dominate All Might on his terms, perhaps he would never get over this.

Unless…

There is one option left to him. One that toes the line between questionable and insane. He's going to have to hope that blind fortune favors him; if not, he'll likely be burned to a crisp where he stands.

"You bastard," Enji breathes. "You did this on purpose. You retired before I could-"

Toshinori closes the distance between them swiftly, one hand coming up to cradle the base of Enji's skull. Enji snatches his hand away, twists his wrist, elbow thrust between them like a barrier as he reacts instinctively. He must be expecting another attack.

Fortunately, he wasn't expecting this.

Toshinori's height makes him long enough that when his chest meets Enji's elbow he can still bend forward, arching his neck down to capture Enji's lips in a kiss.

The mouth beneath his is still, and unbelievably warm.

In the space of a heartbeat he's shoved violently away, so hard that again he rebounds off the wall and collides with his lamp, knocking it over. The lightbulb in it smashes with an electric pop.

" ._ Fuck_, All Might."

If Enji was scary angry, he's terrifying now. Toshinori can feel the heat pouring off of him, but for once his face is blank, almost mask-like. For all his blustering and frenzy, this quiet stillness is as deadly as the calm before a Plinian eruption. All the fire in him seems to have concentrated in the blazing points of his eyes, which burn cold and butane-bright.

"Afraid, Enji?" He cocks his head, looking down through heavy eyelids. Like the whole thing is rather boring, and not one step away from becoming herocide. "Afraid to meet me on the only battlefield where we could possibly be equals?"

Oh, if that isn't a stab in the heart, he doesn't know what would be. Is it enough to offset an explosion?

The corner of Enji's mouth twists again, drawn down in a sneer. "_What?_"

"I know you don't want to believe it, but I'm essentially powerless Endeavor." The use of his hero name seems to snap something in Enji to attention. He narrows his eyes but doesn't interrupt.

"You don't seem to be all that satisfied with our fight. So I'm giving you an option to meet me in a battle I have a chance of winning."

Outraged, Enji opens his mouth, closes it, tries again and sputters, apoplectic. "_Kissing?_ Kissing is not _fighting_, All Might!" He seems to be building steam again, barreling towards a towering rage. He opens his mouth, ready to argue again, but Toshinori cuts him off.

"Isn't it?"

He advances a step away from the wall. One small motion, but the set of Enji's shoulders changes instantly, defensive.

"I'm not sure what kind of kissing you do, but it's all about control. The body goes where the head follows. You take someone's mouth, you've as good as got them." He steps closer, closing the distance between them. God, he can't believe the nonsense spilling out of his mouth. It goes against everything he believes in, grates him in the worst way - but he has Enji spellbound.

_He really believes this._

Toshinori is within two feet of Enji now. "If you win, I'll do whatever you want, short of coming out of retirement."

The terms of this deal are being pulled right out of his ass, completely unchecked. It's dangerous, but he can't spare too much time or Enji will overthink it.

"If I win, you have to do what I say."

There. The stakes have been set, balanced unfairly in his favor. That small injustice should be just enough to keep Enji off-balance, too angry to look deeper.

"How do you decide the winner?" Enji snaps.

Toshinori's mind whirls, casting frantically for something. He hadn't thought this far. _Didn't really expect him to agree so quickly..._

"Whoever gets an erection first." The words fly out of his mouth, unbidden, but instantly he knows they're right. He's stacking the deck in Enji's favor, though the other man can't possibly know it.

Enji's lip curls. "You think I'm gonna get hard kissing you, All Might?"

Toshinori shrugs. "I never said you couldn't play dirty to get a result. Do we have a deal?"

The two men stare at each other for a long moment. Toshinori meets Enji's eyes unblinkingly, heart pounding in his throat. _Please take it. Don't overthink it._ If Enji can win, maybe, just maybe he'll give up this ridiculous rivalry entirely. He'll have the superiority he craves.

Enji's expression shifts minutely, the agate green of his eyes glinting craftily. "Deal."

Enji surges over Toshinori like a cresting wave, gripping his shoulders and forcing him back against the wall. His lips are still curled in disgust, but his eyes are calculating. One warm palm cradles the back of Toshinori's neck, tilting his head down to meet Enji's approaching mouth.

Toshinori is surprised by the gentleness of the kiss. Enji's lips are hot, forceful, but without the violence he can feel simmering beneath his skin. Wetness presses against his lips: Enji's tongue. Toshinori opens his mouth, letting him in.

_Enji is a good kisser._

The realization surprises him. Enji is pouring himself over Toshinori like warm rain, insistent and relentless. A low throb of arousal reverberates through him; for the first few seconds he forgets he is supposed to be fighting back.

When he finally remembers he rises to meet the kiss, gripping the back of Enji's head in return. The kiss intensifies as both of them vie for control, fingers tangling in hair for leverage, tongues deep in each other's mouths.

It's Enji that breaks the kiss first.

Panting, Toshinori lets Enji manipulate him, chin forcibly turned to one side. A hot mouth descends upon his neck, clamping down on the cord of muscle there and sucking. The starburst of sensation goes right to his cock, which begins to thicken.

No, not yet!

His dry spell has been prodigious. Add that to the fact that Enji is not an unattractive man, and it's a recipe for defeat.

He had promised Enji a fight, but less than a minute in and he's already a hairsbreadth from losing. Toshinori closes his eyes, forcing himself to think of something gross. The wet, sucking pressure of Enji's mouth could be a giant leech or a lamprey. The damp heat of him an enormous, feral beast.

When his cock begins to deflate, he breathes a sigh of relief. Now to give Enji a taste of his own medicine.

Leaning forward he latches onto Enji's earlobe, teasing it with both teeth and tongue.

Not a sound from him. Toshinori wonders if the other man would ever betray his pleasure; knowing Enji, his control must be absolute. Maybe to him, all Toshinori's efforts are like a slobbering dog licking his ear.

That's a distinctly discouraging thought, so he ceases his ministrations._ I've got to keep trying._

Toshinori moves on from his ear, kissing along Enji's sharp jawline downward towards his throat. He's burly, built like a bear; years of dedication and hero work have given him a physique that Toshinori can now only imitate for seconds at a time.

Shame grips him. He's never once acknowledged his rival's hard work, never once told Enji how much he admires his perseverance.

He tries to say it with his body, nuzzling the hollow of Enji's throat and dragging his mouth across the skin there. The thick meat of Enji's neck is tantalizing. It's no wonder he went there first; the muscle jumping beneath his skin is begging to be tasted. Toshinori bites down, keeping the pressure light enough that Enji won't bruise, and laves his tongue across the flesh. Salty. A hint of bitterness, like the char on overcooked food.

One hand slides down, cupping Enji's groin. No sign of hardness yet, but that isn't surprising. Enji is straight, isn't he? That's why he's going to win this competition.

Hands shove him back against the wall, and a thick thigh slides between his own, pressing snugly against his groin. Enji retakes control, once again devouring Toshinori's mouth.

How long they kiss, Toshinori doesn't know. He only knows that it's become frantic, rougher with each passing minute. Teeth mash against lips. Enji sucks his neck so viciously that he knows he'll have bruises tomorrow.

Then Enji reaches down and palms him through his clothes, and Toshinori knows he's lost. The sweet pressure on his throat, the warm fingers massaging his groin - blood fills his cock so quickly that he feels dizzy from it.

Enji squeezes him twice, like testing the ripeness of a mango, then steps back.

"Looks like you lost."

His grin is positively feral, and thoroughly debauched. Red, swollen lips, a pink imprint at his throat; Toshinori knows he looks every bit as undone. His erection tents the loose green fabric of his cargo pants, and his neck throbs.

Uncertain of how best to break the sudden tension, he rubs at the back of his head, grinning weakly. "It seems I did."

It doesn't work. If anything the stress intensifies, pulling as taut as sinew. That crafty look is back in Enji's eyes. Toshinori isn't sure he likes it.

"So… what do you want me to-"

"Kneel." Enji cuts him off before the question has finished forming.

He goes to his knees, heart jackhammering in his chest. Is it going to work?

"Suck me."

A wave of relief sweeps through him, so suddenly that he feels almost giddy._ It worked._ Enji has taken the bait. This is it; he'll let Enji dominate him in every possible way.

He'll do anything. Anything to keep the world from losing the two top heroes. If this is what he needs, to see All Might bowed down before him, Toshinori will gladly do it.

Toshinori's fingers fumble a with the button on Enji's pants, made clumsy by nerves. Despite his relief, he's still apprehensive.

The silence in the room is absolute. When he takes the zipper down, the scrape of its teeth sounds as loud as a buzzsaw. Beneath is a black layer of silky material. Enji's boxers. Is he supposed to pull everything down, or just take Enji out?

He goes for the latter. The barriers of clothing make this more impersonal, something he thinks Enji would want.

Enji's cock hangs limply between his powerful thighs, the flesh pale and plump, crowned by a sparse smattering of red-gray hair. Toshinori feels a wave of melancholia at the sight; they are both a little too old for such games. That's neither here nor there though, so he leans in.

His lip seal at the base of Enji's cock, his nose butting up against his pubic mound. Toshinori breathes him in; a warm, salty musk edged with the smell of smoke. Something in him lurches hungrily at the scent, and he wonders briefly if it's a side effect of Enji's quirk or if the smell of fire has been branded into his flesh.

It's been a long time since he's done this, but it's as instinctive as breathing. He hollows his cheeks and flattens his tongue against the underside of Enji's cock, sucking hard to draw blood into the flesh.

_Just like riding a bike._

Enji comes to life, swelling in hot pulses between his lips.

"You've done this before."

His voice is like the lash of a whip, cutting and derisive. He chances a glance upward. Enji's mouth is set in a sneer, eyes pinched in faint disgust. He's looking at Toshinori like he's something nasty he scraped off his boot, and that stings a little. No colleague has ever looked at him like that.

But his words were a statement, not a question. Toshinori doesn't bother responding, he just returns to his work. Enji's cock is rapidly becoming too long for him to take in completely, so he focuses his efforts on the first couple inches until the flesh is thick and straining against his tongue.

"Never took you for a queer, All Might. Was all your posturing with the ladies an act?"

Toshinori won't let the dark edge in Enji's voice bother him. He can accept his hate if it's for the greater good. Enji's just trying to goad him, grinding his victory in a little deeper. If it pleases him, he'll play along.

As Toshinori pulls off of him with a wet pop, Enji's cock bounces like a mallet hitting the taut skin of a drum, fully erect now.

"Does it matter?" he asks, wiping spit from his chin.

"Did I say you could stop?" Enji retorts.

Toshinori returns to his task. As he bends forward, powerful fingers thread themselves through his hair; Enji takes control and uses his leverage to begin thrusting.

It's sort of funny. Of all the heroes that have questioned him about his preferences, Enji was never one of them. Many things about All Might have been hotly debated for years. His civilian identity. His lineage. His parent's Quirks. But nothing has been so wildly speculated about as his sexuality. He's been asked by countless reporters, written to by endless numbers of fans, and had other pros hounding him for the answer as long as he's been in the public spotlight.

Toshinori always refuses to answer. It's become something of a game; flex and pose in public with some pretty young things, see how long it takes for the picture to end up in the tabloids.

It's the greatest irony that being weakened by All For One allowed him the most romantic freedom in his life – not that he had much time for it. Love is a young man's game; Toshinori has been too busy teaching and training young Midoriya to indulge in his personal life.

He's been alone for a long time. No companion to warm his bed or his flesh, only taking care of his needs when he has the energy or the urge seizes him.

Maybe that's why he doesn't mind so much that Enji is essentially choking him with his cock.

Despite the discomfort in his jaw, Toshinori tries his best to match Enji's pace. He gasps breaths between thrusts. He drools all over his chin. He keeps his lips tucked over his teeth so tightly that he knows there will be bruises there tomorrow.

Inside his trousers he is still rock-hard.

The pressure is torturous. Enji never said he _wasn't_ allowed to touch himself, right?

Toshinori gives in, palming himself through his clothes. The sensation is so intense that he moans, a muffled vibration against the flesh filling his mouth. Enji must feel it because he pulls him off roughly.

"You're enjoying this, huh?" He shoves Toshinori backward, sending him sprawling on the futon. Enji's bare foot presses on his groin, threatening to squash his balls. He wiggles his toes against the bulge tenting Toshinori's pants.

"Strip."

Toshinori does, tossing his clothes haphazardly toward the hamper until at last he's completely naked. He kneels at Enji's feet, resisting the urge to cover himself. Warmth kindles in his cheeks as he feels Enji's gaze take him in, and restless energy builds as he waits for the next command. He's feeling uncharacteristically shy; he's never been exposed like this before.

He watches Enji's lips thin as his eyes trace down Toshinori's body, from the scarred crater on his side to the scars that twist along his stomach, and finally to his groin. Toshinori has folded his hands modestly on his knees, but they can't disguise his erection. He's aware of how he looks. While his body is completely proportional, his slimness accentuates everything to almost comical levels.

"Get on all fours facing the wall."

And, oh, if he was shy before he's incandescent with discomfort now. He does as Enji commands, turning over as slowly as he dares and keeping his legs tucked close together. There's nowhere to hide, not like this.

Thick fingers squeeze his butt cheeks, yanking them rudely apart to expose his most intimate bits. He bites his lip at the intrusion but can't stop the instinctive twitch from below as his anus contracts, shying away from the motion.

"You have lube?"

Even though this is exactly what he'd planned for, the realization that it's going to happen sends a pang of anxiety through him.

And then, a worse thought. Oh shit, does he actually have any lube? Most of the time he'll just polish himself off with a fistful of soap bubbles. He can't remember the last time he laid back and had a long, relaxing go of it.

If there is any, he's always kept it under the sink in the bathroom, and he tells Enji as much.

"You want me to go get it?" he asks, thinking that even if he doesn't, maybe he'll have something under there that can approximate it, but Enji refuses him.

He watches as Enji pads to his bathroom and crouches in front of the sink, taking the opportunity to spit into his palm. Hastily he swipes a finger through his saliva and pokes it through the dry ring of muscle, grimacing at the burn. Spit makes terrible lube.

He only gets up to the first knuckle before the cabinet door slams, and he returns quickly to his position. To his relief, Enji is carrying a small blue bottle.

"Jesus, All Might. This shit has to be ten years out of date." Enji swirls the bottle, which is less than a quarter full. "Do you ever get laid?"

Toshinori laughs quietly, forgetting his subservience for a moment. "You think I have time to get laid?"

A hard slap to his ass shocks him back into silence. "I didn't say you could talk."

Toshinori bows his head. Again the silence of the room seems magnified so that every sound hits his eardrums like a cymbal crash. There's a small flurry of scuffling behind him — Enji removing his clothes? — then the pop of a plastic cap. Wet squelching sounds.

The subsequent dousing of his asshole startles him, but not nearly as much as the rough hands that spread his cheeks apart again.

_Oh god, he's not going to go in without prepping, is he?_

But he is. Toshinori can feel the fat, spongy head of Enji's cock pressing firmly against his hole, pushing inexorably in.

He holds his breath. The stretch is intense; it feels like someone's pushing a hot iron bar into him. He spasms helplessly around it, pain reverberating through him as his sphincter is pushed to its limit. Enji is huge. It's too much, too much—

Enji stops.

Warm hands grip his hips, thumbs digging into the small of his back. It might be his imagination, but he thinks he can feel heat pulsing from the pads of Enji's fingers, sinking into the taut muscles of his back. It's soothing; distracting enough that he remembers to breathe and bear down.

Bearing down helps. The pain diminishes to manageable levels, more intense pressure than acute pain. Enji begins to rock into him with short, slow jabs of his hips, each small motion stretching Toshinori a little wider.

What he wouldn't have given for a finger or two before this. At least Enji didn't just shove it in; then his neighbors might have called the police.

When at last Enji bottoms out, Toshinori is sweating. His erection has died, overwhelmed by the pain and pressure. When Enji pulls out completely, he almost sighs in relief.

_Click._

The brittle echo of a plastic-flip top cap, and more wetness drips onto his asshole. Lube. Enji is adding more lube. _Thank God for that. _

He takes another breath, hearing the wet squish of fluid on flesh as Enji slicks himself again, and the hollow clatter as the empty bottle is tossed to the floor.

The hands return to his hips, gripping him with purpose. This time when Enji pushes he slides in with no resistance, and Toshinori breathes deeply through the motion. Yes, he can handle this.

Enji allows him only a moment's rest before setting a punishing pace, forceful enough that Toshinori has to brace himself against the wall lest he fall face-first into the futon.

This really isn't so bad. His elbow may be digging into the wall and his arm may be quaking with the effort with keeping himself upright, but his body adjusts to Enji's girth quickly. Soon he can almost appreciate it.

The feeling of another body over his, the intimate slide of flesh inside him. It's been a long time since he's had this. His cock thickens as Enji pounds into him, inspired by the occasional flicker of pleasure as Enji skates by his prostate.

Only a few minutes later Enji's thrusts become choppier, quicker, and Toshinori thinks he's getting close._ Now for the coup de grâce._

He forces himself into his muscle form, swelling beneath Enji's hands. The fingers digging into his hips falter, then Enji withdraws completely.

No!

Toshinori groans at the loss, frustrated. He can't hold this form for long!

"Turn over," Enji demands, voice rough with desire. When Toshinori rolls onto his back, he can see how pink-flushed Enji's cheeks and chest are.

"Legs up!"

Toshinori complies automatically. Enji seizes his thighs, seating himself back inside Toshinori with a grunt.

Something about Toshinori's muscle form must inspire him because the pace he sets now is slower, more thoughtful. With each snap of his hips he alters his trajectory minutely until one thrust sends a pulse of sensation radiating throughout Toshinori's abdomen.

_"Uhn!" _

The sound escapes him before he can stop it, and he bites down on his lip as his cock jumps. Oh hell, Enji's found his prostate.

"Soft spot, All Might?" Enji's sneer is softened by the lax pleasure on his face as he draws his hips back and pushes them forward again. Warmth radiates through Toshinori at the motion, the first inklings of sweet pressure beginning to build.

It's good. Maybe too good. He turns his head, pressing his mouth against his arm instinctively to muffle his moans.

"Move your head." Enji's tone is flat, cold despite the fire burning jewel-bright in his eyes. "I wanna hear it."

Then he snaps his hips again.

Breaths dissolving into senseless groans, Toshinori can only fist his hands into the comforter and hold on as Enji takes him over and over. How long he drifts in that twilight haze of pleasure, he doesn't know. He only becomes aware of a change in Enji's breathing when the man leans over him, tucking his face against Toshinori's neck.

The thrusts become more erratic. Enji's panting breaths feel hot enough to steam against the moist skin of his throat. Actually, Toshinori can see steam rising off his shoulders; he hasn't flared into flame, but his shoulders are hot enough to boil.

Toshinori's cock is trapped between their bodies. Each motion teases him terribly; it keeps him on edge, not quite enough to bring him to orgasm. He wraps his legs around Enji's back, trying to generate more friction. One powerful squeeze of his legs crushes them together, and yes, that's _so good–_

Teeth close on his neck in a sharp, stinging kiss. The pain shocks him; he lets out a surprised cry which only seems to spur Enji, who rumbles against his throat, teeth digging deeper. His hips jerk once more, and then Toshinori feels throbbing in his asshole as Enji's cock spasms.

He can feel the heat flare in his lower belly as Enji comes, his semen like a shot of hot water right up Toshinori's ass.

All Might can take it. Muscle form is far more durable, but he's struggling to hold on to it, has been for the last minute. Steam rises from his skin to mingle with Enji's as he quakes between Toshinori's thighs.

Toshinori's cock throbs, neglected. He desperately wants to just take himself in hand, but Enji hasn't ordered it. He waits, vibrating with tension as Enji gives one final grunt and rolls off him.

Come leaking out his ass, shivering and on-edge, Toshinori jumps when he feels Enji lean into him again. Wetness laps against his neck, stinging it anew; when Enji rears up to his knees Toshinori can see his red-stained tongue disappearing into his mouth.

Enji stares down at him wordlessly for a moment, wiping a hand across his lips.

"Touch yourself."

His eyes burn with intensity, and small flames flare on his neck and shoulders.

With a groan, Toshinori tugs himself over the edge with three quick jerks. He spills all over his stomach, spurting fluid that feels positively cool in comparison to the lingering imprint of Enji's flesh. For a moment, all he knows is bliss.

Then he loses his tenuous hold on his muscle form, snapping back to normal. The shock reverberates through him, forcing a cough that he muffles quickly against his palm. A smear of blood glistens there. He balls his hand into a fist and wipes his lips quickly, strangely embarrassed at the thought of Enji seeing him so fragile. He swallows, unsure of what to do next.

Enji reclines next to him, aloof as a jungle cat. The mad sparkle has faded from his gaze, his face relaxing back into an impassive mask.

_This_ is the Endeavor he knows.

"What are you looking at?"

Even the tone of his voice has lost its fire. _Good. _

"N-nothing," Toshinori mumbles, folding his legs together. He looks longingly towards the bathroom and decides to just go, orders be damned. "I'll be right back."

Toshinori takes his time in the bathroom, cleaning himself up and inspecting the wound on his neck. It's still oozing, two small gashes where Enji's eyeteeth had dug in, and the neat purple imprint of the rest of his teeth. It's going to bruise like hell, and he's not sure he wants to go to Recovery Girl. That might lead to all sorts of awkward questions.

He washes and bandages it anyway and steps out to find that Enji bare-chested but otherwise clothed. Dressing quickly, he ducks his head, self-conscious. If only he had thought to bring his clothes into the bathroom.

In truth, he's a bit surprised to still find Enji here. As close-lipped as the man normally is, he can't imagine that there's much he wants to say.

Enji himself looks discomfited, the scowl on his face a cloudy mix of annoyance and… embarrassment? Naked shoulders hunching, he seems to be wanting to hide from Toshinori's gaze.

Oh, right.

Toshinori rummages through his closet, pulling out an old gray spandex shirt. He thrusts it towards Enji, who snatches it up begrudgingly.

_It should fit,_ he wants to say, but doesn't.

It does fit. There's a slightly sour expression pinching Enji's eyes, but for him, that's positively normal. Maybe he's just annoyed that he has to accept this small kindness.

_That's what you get for lack of foresight_, Gran Torino would say.

Toshinori shuffles awkwardly in the entryway, looking down at the rumpled bedding. There's a wet patch right in the middle of the comforter, staining the navy fabric almost black. He doesn't know what to say.

Luckily, he doesn't have to say anything. Enji turns his back to him and walks away. Belatedly, Toshinori reaches for him, then stops himself. The aborted movement must catch Enji's eye, because he pauses, shooting a look over his shoulder.

"I know the way out."

_Don't follow me,_ is how Toshinori interprets it.

Then he's gone.

Toshinori waits until he hears the door slam shut, then deflates. He didn't realize how much tension he was carrying until the moment it all falls away, leaving him almost light-headed with relief. Then the other sensations come creeping in. His ass burns. His scalp feels raw from where Enji tugged at his hair. His arms feel tender in a way that he knows will be trouble tomorrow.

Mostly, he feels tired. Exhausted to the marrow of his bones. He looks longingly at the futon, despairing at the patches where his and Enji's come has soaked, then towards the shattered lamp.

Collecting the broken pieces carefully, he bins them and then sweeps the room with flagging strength. Stripping his bedsheets takes Herculean effort; showering almost undoes him completely. He starts the washer and emerges from the bathroom pink-skinned and clean, scuffing his feet all the way to the front door so he can click the lock shut.

The pile of ash between the sofa and kotatsu stares at him. He wants so desperately to just curl up, sleep away the afternoon and just deal with all of this later. But he knows that if he leaves it he will likely forget about it, and when he wakes from his nap he'll step in it and grind it further into the carpet.

_Troublesome._

With fingers that tremble slightly, Toshinori fetches his hand vacuum and begins to clean the carpet.


	2. Endeavor

_Man is always prey to his truths. Once he has admitted them, he cannot free himself from them._

_-Albert Camus, "The Myth of Sisyphus"_

Hat pulled low over his hair, Todoroki skulks in the shadows of a narrow alleyway. He checks his phone, the message on the throwaway email still staring back at him.

_He goes to the Ito-Yokado in Block 6 between 10:20 and 11 most Sundays. Has been taking back streets to and from, most often an alleyway with two sets of dumpsters and the cartoon graffiti of Stain halfway down it. Usually wears a green or black pullover with the hood drawn._

Looking over his shoulder, he glares at the ridiculous depiction of Hero-Killer Stain wearing a white robe and a halo that has been spray-painted on the dingy gray concrete of the building. It has to be here.

He tucks his phone away and shuffles back into the deeper shadows of the dumpsters.

The sun climbs higher as he waits, the darkness creeping away by degrees. Todoroki fidgets impatiently, trying to resist the impulse to peek out of the alley. He's not used to this - this _waiting. _

He's been here for nearly forty minutes. He arrived at 10, twenty minutes before the window of time his informant gave. In that time he's scared off a pack of kids coming to take selfies with the graffiti, a vagrant intent on digging through the dumpsters, and some guy looking to sell street drugs. The latter's face he memorizes.

_Damn All Might for reducing me to this._

He feels the familiar anger bubbling up as time stretches on. All Might, the great and powerful hero who swept onto the scene like a hurricane. Who blew out like dynamite, leaving wreckage in his wake.

Wreckage all the other heroes have to clean up.

Wreckage_ Endeavor_ must clean up.

When he saw the news of All Might's retirement scrolling across the screen he was suddenly twenty years old again, watching the hero's retreating back, helpless fury tearing him up inside like a thousand gnashing teeth.

That had been bad, what had followed had been worse. The accolades. The headlines.

"Flame Hero Endeavor - the New #1 Hero!"

"Endeavor's Ascent - All Might's next Successor?"

The pats on the back from other heroes, from his employees. The sudden boost in business. Everywhere companies were now looking to plaster his colors on their merchandise.

The anger was too much to be borne. He had destroyed his training room in a fit of rage, hammering his fists into the walls and machines until his knuckles bled and everything smoldered around him.

It had barely taken the edge off.

The anger is like a living thing inside him now. It harries him endlessly, disturbing his concentration, his sleep. He can't get rid of it. Sometimes he thinks he might die from the intensity of it; there's no way a human being can be so full of rage and live.

But he is. His heart keeps beating, his lungs keep breathing. Even when he feels like he's slowly being driven insane, he clings to his duties and soldiers on.

Or, tries to. It would be so much easier if it weren't for the damn _publicity_. At first the press had all been positive, bolstering the general attitude in the wake of the Hero Killer Stain's arrest and All For One's attack. But gradually doubts had crept in.

The public doesn't trust him to take the role. He's heard it all; speculations from the newscasters, quips from the radio hosts, the whispers on the street.

_Endeavor is number one hero, but he's not All Might._

_Endeavor? He's the new number one?_

_No way Endeavor can fill All Might's shoes._

He flexes his fingers, digging white crescents into his palms, scarcely aware that he's doing it.

They loved All Might. They loved him because he was fucking inefficient. Doing interviews, making all kinds of public appearances, doting on the people like he was some kind of mother hen. Todoroki doesn't have time for that shit, he isn't called Endeavor for no reason. Don't people realize that he's solved more cases than any Pro hero, even All Might?

_Approval ratings are what matter in this hero game, Number One. That's why I keep up appearances. People place their faith in those they like. _

He remembers the lazy grin curling up at him with those words, the shrug of red wings from across the table.

Sometimes he hates that little shits like Hawks are right.

No matter though. It isn't his approval ratings that bother him or the flagging faith of the public. It's All Might.

All Might, whose back he was always chasing.

All Might, who he was finally within a hairsbreadth of eclipsing.

All Might, who hid his weakness from the world and thinks he can just up and retire because he's fucking _embarrassed_.

That won't be how this works. It_ can't_ be how this works. He's slaved for years for this, for the sweet moment when his power surpasses All Might's, and he won't be denied!

That's what had driven him to this final conclusion. One way or another, it'll all be finished today.

Todoroki is working himself up into a rage now, so distracted that he almost misses his opportunity. A tall figure in baggy clothes passes the dumpsters, a sack of groceries in hand. Olive-green cargo pants and a baggy black sweater drawn low - he may be hunching, but Todoroki knows that's All Might.

Snatching the wrist closest to him, he pulls All Might out of the triangle of light spilling from the street and into the shadows with him.

"What -" startled, All Might drops his groceries and swings, but Todoroki expects that. He blocks the hit easily and readies himself for another punch before All Might falters.

"Enji?"

Goddamn, that's irritating._ Enji_, he says, like they're familiar enough to be friends. He doesn't want All Might to know how much it gets to him though, so he keeps his mouth shut. It doesn't help much; the anger in him is still mounting. The stupid look on All Might's face just fans the flames of his rage. Those sharp cheekbones, the bruised shadows under those hollow eyes – just seeing his rival like this is enough to piss him off royally.

"What are you doing?"

He doesn't even sound like All Might. All Might has never spoken with that soft, meek tone. No, he's always got that stupid grin on his face, blowing hot air like a gale from between perfect, even teeth.

All Might, grocery shopping and walking home. Pretending he's retired, playing at civilian life. Like he can just turn his back on it all.

Everything he wanted to say is swept out of his head at the sight of that frail visage. In its place the anger bubbles in his throat, choking his eloquence from him. He clutches at one of All Might's bony wrists. "You - how dare you – I_ refuse _to accept it-"

Todoroki can't decide what he wants to say first. All of it wants to come tumbling out at once, and his own inarticulate fumbling only makes him madder. He grips the flesh in his hand tightly, using the touch as an anchor to keep himself grounded.

"Enji?" All Might reaches out and touches his shoulder. Bizarrely he looks concerned. "Enji, are you okay?"

_Who the hell is he to be asking if I'm okay?! _

Suddenly, he finds the words he was looking for all along.

"You _can't_ retire! I will beat you – I will _earn_ my place as the number one hero!"

He squeezes All Might's bony arms. The man feels as frail as a grasshopper, and that's infuriating. That's not him. That's not _All Might_.

"What is with this weak form, All Might?! Why are you hiding?! You have no right-"

All Might's casting nervous looks around, but Todoroki could care less. That is until All Might brings one long finger to his lips, actually shushing him!

With one more quick glance over his shoulder, he abruptly twists his hand out of Todoroki's grasp and snatches his groceries back up. He twitches his hand at him in a come-hither gesture and steps away. "Come on."

Todoroki grabs his wrist again, half-expecting All Might to bound away. "Where do you think you're going?"

All Might gives him a look. "Home. Follow me, and I'll tell you everything."

_Home_. He's never known where All Might lives. Intrigue dampens his ire just enough to allow him to shove his hands into his pockets and hurry after.

Todoroki stays hot on All Might's heels, ready to tackle him in case the hero gets any funny ideas about running away. He squares his shoulders, glaring imperiously down at anyone who looks at them too closely and is pleased to see that most people give them a wide berth.

When at last they turn up a series of apartment complexes, he is baffled when All Might bypasses the luxury accommodations and turns into a run-down green building.

All Might lives _here?_

Perhaps it's a front. Maybe he owns the whole building and has it disguised; he wouldn't be the first hero to do something like that.

All Might slides his key into the lock and pushes open the door, kicking a scattering of shoes to the edge of the genkan and toeing his own off. Todoroki follows suit. He's momentarily distracted from his objective by sheer curiosity, looking around All Might's apartment with increasing incredulity.

The whole place is sparse, looking barely lived-in aside from a scattering of clothes that All Might hustles to sweep away. His furnishings are minimal, the couch has mismatched cushions, and his kotatsu - it looks cheap and flimsy.

This is it?

Annoyingly, while he was looking All Might has disappeared again. He rounds into the kitchen to find him fingers-deep in a bowl of eggs, the picture of domesticity. It's like he's totally forgotten Todoroki is here.

"Well?" he demands, vexed by All Might's indifference. "You said you would tell me everything. Now _talk_."

All Might rinses his hands and dries them, then opens the fridge to slide the bowl inside. "Would you care for some tea?"

The flat dismissal is like flint striking rock. His anger explodes, the fire flaring momentarily out of his control. Flames lick at his hat, which begins to blacken almost immediately and he snatches it off with a growl, tossing it singed and smoking onto All Might's bare counter.

For once All Might seems to realize who he's dealing with because his eyes widen and his movements become brisk. "Okay, okay."

All Might heads back to the living room and tucks himself under the kotatsu, like he's getting ready for a good long chat. Refusing to take a seat, Todoroki crosses his arms. As All Might takes a long draft from his teacup, he has to resist the urge to tap his foot, choosing instead to squeeze his fists together beneath his arms where his rival can't see.

All Might finally sets his cup down.

"A little over five years ago I fought All For One. When we fought he injured me severely, but I won. I thought I destroyed him. I made it off the battlefield and sought treatment in secret, and when I returned, All For One's body had vanished."

The revelation stuns him. Five years ago All Might had vanished from the public eye for the space of weeks; that, coupled with the fact that crime had fallen dramatically in that space of time lead everyone to believe that there had been a clash between him and some villains. But All Might had returned, smiling and close-mouthed, and eventually, it had been forgotten. To learn that he had fought with the world's most powerful villain not once, but twice…

Todoroki schools his expression into one of indifference, not wanting All Might to see how the news has rocked him.

All Might is staring down at his teacup, eyes shadowed and distant. "I kept the fight a secret, to keep the public from panicking. I didn't want them to know that someone like All For One might still be around." He reaches up, tracing his left side lightly, before tugging the hem of his shirt up.

Todoroki's eye is immediately drawn to the pink spiderweb of scars crisscrossing All Might's left side, which spill like runners of magma from the caldera cratering the left side of his ribcage. Even healed the wound looks painful. He finds himself drawn, horribly fascinated by the mark before his senses come back to him.

Aborting his step, he re-folds his arms and looks away. In the corner of his eye he sees All Might tuck his shirt back down, smoothing the fabric almost tenderly.

"They took out my stomach, part of my small intestine, and a good portion of my left lung. I don't absorb nutrients as well as I should; it's hard to keep my weight up, especially when I use my Quirk."

All Might goes for his tea again, drinking deeply before delivering his verdict. "That last fight really took a lot out of me, and I just... don't think I can keep it up anymore. I had to retire."

Then he shrugs. He _shrugs_, like that little one-minute explanation absolves him of everything.

Still absorbing the sheer inadequacy of it, Todoroki doesn't stop All Might when he gets up and heads back to the kitchen.

As he understands it, All Might has lived with this handicap for the last five years. Even with it he managed to defeat the most powerful villain in the world in combat, while Todoroki could do nothing but act as a distraction. And now he's stopped because he's _tired?_

That's an awfully flimsy excuse for the man who calls himself the Symbol of Peace.

It's so transparently _weak _that it incenses him beyond all words. The Quirk flowing through his veins ignites, curling about his shoulders like a fiery stole. His shirt and pullover stand no chance; they curl and flake into ash, dropping in clumps to the floor. All Might races out of the kitchen.

"Enji! Stop!"

All Might looks torn between panic and fear, a sight so at odds with him that it just makes Todoroki angrier. The fury feels too large for him, like it's being squeezed through a high-pressure tube and refined into something that burns cold instead of hot.

"So, that's it huh?" You quit. It got tough, and you decided you'd retire instead of working to stay at the top," he breathes, rephrasing All Might's explanation to the raw, unvarnished truth.

One of All Might's hands twitches towards him, the one holding the teacup. He half expects it to be thrown at him, but instead All Might lowers his arms and shakes his head, vehement.

"No, Enji. I decided that I should focus more on raising the next generation of heroes than continuing my own work. I've finally decided to listen to Recovery Girl; my own health is more important. You and the other heroes have always done an exemplary job, I have no doubt that you'll rise to take my place as the number one hero, and the new Symbol of Peace."

He's put on his teacher's voice, that even, patronizing tone that plays at being reasonable. Todoroki knows what it really means: _sit down, shut up, and deal with it._

All Might's back is to him now. He's forcing one of the windows open, trying to waft the gray cloud of smoke now clinging about his ceiling outside. Todoroki grabs him and forces him down on the couch. All Might will listen, one way or another!

"I don't accept that!" He spits the words in All Might's gaunt face.

"What-"

Todoroki cuts him off before he can derail the conversation again. "This is not how this is going to go! I'm not - I won't accept being made the number one hero like this!"

All Might blinks up at him, slack-jawed. "Why not? That's how it works. If a hero is removed from the ranks, everyone else goes up a-"

"I _know _how the ranking works, All Might!" he seethes, "I will not accept being _given _the number one spot! I will _earn _it!"

Even though he's as plain as can be, All Might seems as dense as a brick wall. "Enji, you have earned it!" He tries placating him with a hand on his wrist. "You've been the number two hero for years! Who is more deserving of the spot than you?"

Todoroki has given up. All Might seems incapable of understanding - and as irritating as that is, it isn't that surprising. How could a man blessed with the world's strongest Quirk ever truly grasp the frustration of fighting tooth and nail for incremental improvement, of clawing above the mediocre masses to ascend the path toward greatness? He had risen like the morning sun, effortlessly taking his place at the zenith from the moment he had received his Hero license.

Well, he's never been much for words. Actions speak so much louder.

"I _will _beat you, All Might. Even if I have to drag you out of retirement to do it!"

His fingers twist in the collar of All Might's shirt, smoking. For the first time All Might reacts, pushing his arms off so forcefully that his fingers burn with the friction. _"Enough, Enji_. I am retired, and that won't be changing."

It doesn't scare him. He's more interested in the way All Might's arms had swollen, filling the loose holes of his shirt for an instant in a practical application of his Quirk. See? He _can _use it if he wants to.

All Might's puffing out his scrawny chest, looking down at him from his full height for once. Got him angry enough, eh?

"Fight me," he grins, positively electric with anticipation.

"Why?"

Todoroki is momentarily struck dumb by All Might's blockheaded attempt to turn this back into a conversation. He sputters, then finally finds the words. "Why - to settle this, once and for all!"

For the first time there's something other than forced calm or surprise in All Might's voice when he answers. "Settle _what_, Enji?"

He sounds frustrated, but nowhere near as frustrated as Todoroki is. "To settle who is the strongest!"

He's sick of this. Sick of this endless protraction, and All Might's recalcitrance.

But for once All Might stops, eyes lowering, considering. He's silent for a long moment, and when he looks back up the emotion in those blue eyes Todoroki can't quite read, but it instantly puts him on high alert. When All Might speaks, his words are soft, almost wondering.

"Do you think I'm stronger than you, Enji?"

It's like All Might's reached inside him and pulled out something naked and indecent. Panic is his first, instinctive reaction. His heart rate skyrockets, his stomach plummeting to his knees - but why?

All Might is watching him intently, like a child examining an ant under a spyglass. The following wave of indignant anger is more familiar and welcoming. He embraces it, letting the Hellfire flare on his shoulders so that All Might instinctively leans away from the heat.

"You are not stronger than me! I'd prove it to you now if you had the decency to fight me!"

The eyes on him are still calculating, most certainly gauging his reaction. He refuses to look away, staring All Might down and watching the fire dance in the other's eyes. In a battle of attrition, he will most certainly win.

It works. All Might lowers his gaze and moves, like he's trying to go around him. Todoroki pushes him back.

"You really want to fight?" All Might asks.

"_Yes_." He's so ready for it, he's prepared to just throw the other man over his shoulder and carry him to his car. But All Might only shakes his hand off.

"Okay. But I want another cup of tea first."

Let him have his tea. Todoroki's mind is racing, already leaping light-years ahead to the fight. He has the perfect place all set up: closed-circuit cameras, privacy, a battlefield large enough to accommodate both their Quirks, yet without any of the fancy trappings of that UA possesses. It's essentially a large patch of dirt for them to go mano a mano without destroying any of the surrounding infrastructures.

In the corner of his eye he sees All Might leave the kitchen and head off to the back of the apartment. Perhaps to grab something?

The longer he waits, the more certain he is that All Might's about to do something reckless, like jump out of his window to escape him. He pushes his way into the back, peering around the corner to find All Might on his hands and knees - making the bed?

"What are you doing?"

All Might gets to his feet, glancing at him quickly. "Nothing. Just looking for my - my inhaler."

He didn't even know All Might needed an inhaler.

"Well, come on," he insists, impatient. "I have a place in mind that-"

Then All Might grabs him by the neck and yanks him forward. Todoroki is unprepared for the throw - All Might is one of the last people he'd expect to go for a cheap shot, after all - but manages to turn it into a roll, landing squarely on the neat futon. He's about to get to his feet, fists raised but All Might's predicted him, already wrapping one lanky arm around his neck in a chokehold.

The pressure is intense; his face feels like an overinflated balloon, ready to pop. But even then he can feel that All Might's holding back; the tightness of his hold isn't strangling off Todoroki's airway at all, just threatening. He's able to speak just fine.

"All MIght! What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"We're fighting. Didn't you want that?" comes the teasing voice in his right ear.

This is - this - is this just a _game _to him?

Todoroki roars, finally too incensed to be articulate. This seems to frighten All Might, because he loosens his grip like he's getting ready to make a break for it.

"What- why the hell- _are you kidding me?_" he snarls, turning as far as his neck will allow to look at All Might's face. The dark eyes that glint back at him are flat, surprisingly serious.

"No. I'm not."

He grabs All Might's arm at his throat, yanking as a warning before he decides to plant a sharp elbow right in the other man's tender guts. "If you wanna fight, I'll end you. But we'll do it right. Now get off me."

"You're only saying that because you're losing."

All Might sure knows exactly the wrong thing to say. "The hell are you talking about?! You're the one taking cheap shots -"

"If you're really better than me, you should be able to beat me no matter how we fight. You're full of excuses, Enji."

_If you're really better than me -_

No more messing around.

Todoroki breaks All Might's hold with ease and reaches for him.

Fighting this man is hardly a challenge. It's like wrestling with a scarecrow; the most difficult part is figuring out where his scrawny torso is inside that gargantuan shirt. Once he's got that, it's all too easy to whip him to the ground and twist one twiglike arm behind his back.

All Might meanwhile is panting like a racehorse. Todoroki can feel the birdlike cage of his chest heaving beneath his knee; and most irritating of all, it doesn't look like an act.

Fingers tap at his leg, the universal white flag. For a second he considers twisting the arm beneath his fingers a little harder, but relents.

"You win." The words are out of All Might's mouth the second he rolls over.

There's no way in hell Todoroki is letting him off that easy. "Get up, All Might."

All Might just folds his hands behind his head, reclining back like he's about to take a nap. "No. It's over, Enji. You win."

What kind of fool does All Might take him for?

He picks All Might up by the collar of his shirt; it's like curling a particularly dense feather pillow. And when he shakes him, All Might only dangles loosely in his grasp, completely pliant. Unresisting. He's like a wet noodle, and the absolute insult of his efforts is like claws raking over Todoroki's raw nerves. "That was not a fight!"

"It's the best you're going to get." All Might touches his hands, and Todoroki drops him to smack them away.

Readjusting the neck of his shirt, All Might shrugs again. "You can hit me, if you want." He spreads his arms, taunting. "It might make you feel better."

If there was ever a question of whether or not All Might ever respected him as a rival, this answers it. He's spitting on Todoroki's honor and grinding it into the dirt.

"How dare you - you _patronize _me like this, All Might!" he hisses, trembling with the rising urge to ignite his fist and grind it into the other man's flesh.

All Might is already shaking his head. 'Not patronizing. I told you already, I can't fight anymore. This is all I have left." Then he smiles, a small, lopsided curve of his lips.

And despite it all, despite All Might's insults and half-truths - Todoroki believes him.

He _believes _him.

And that grates worst of all.

"You bastard. You did this on purpose. You retired before I could-"

But all of a sudden All Might is closing the distance between them. He feels something touch the back of his head and reacts instinctively, twisting the reaching hand around and thrusting it between them like a shield. It makes no difference. All Might butts himself right up against the makeshift barrier and tilts his head down, mashing his lips to Todoroki's.

Stunned doesn't quite cover it. He's paralyzed, long enough that any villain would've had ample opportunity to slip a knife through his ribs. Then, just as suddenly he has control again, and shoves All Might away with all the force he can muster.

When the other man bounces off the wall and breaks his own lamp, Todoroki doesn't feel bad. He doesn't feel much of anything at the moment. It's like his brain has been frozen, stuttering over the previous three seconds like a video glitched on repeat.

"What. The. _Fuck_, All Might."

No one does that. No one has ever done that to him. He stares down All Might, waiting. Waiting for the words that will cut the noose from his neck, because if he doesn't have a good fucking excuse, Todoroki is going to hang him right hear.

"Afraid, Enji?" All Might cocks his head, arching one eyebrow at him. He doesn't seem fazed in the least. "Afraid to meet me on the only battlefield where we could possibly be equals?"

Those are fighting words, completely add odds with the man's attitude up til now. "_What?_"

"I know you don't want to believe it, but I'm essentially powerless Endeavor." And that marks the first time today he's addressed Todoroki properly, like another hero. It's done intentionally, to command his attention, and he stiffens, wary.

"You don't seem to be all that satisfied with our fight, so I'm giving you an option to meet me in a battle I have a chance of winning."

_A battle he has a chance of winning..._

A battle…

No. It's impossible. Too ludicrous to be borne. But All Might's eyes are on his mouth, leaving no question as to his meaning. "_Kissing?_ Kissing is not _fighting_, All Might!" He's so off-put by the statement that his voice cracks on the first word.

"Isn't it?"

All Might takes one small step towards him, and Todoroki takes a compensatory step back, half-expecting the man to lunge after him again. His eyes - deep-set, electric blue - hold Todoroki's as intently as a snake charming its prey.

"I'm not sure what kind of kissing you do, but it's all about control. The body goes where the head follows. You take someone's mouth, you've as good as got them." He takes another step.

Kissing isn't something Todoroki is particularly fond of; someone else crowing right up into his personal space, all that wet and sloppy action - he'd rather skip all that and get to business. He'd never thought of it all that much before, but something about All Might's words rings true.

Todoroki has always been the one controlling the kiss. He's never had a partner strong enough or pushy enough to ever try to take control. And when All Might puts it like that...

"If you win, I'll do whatever you want, short of coming out of retirement. If I win, you have to do what I say." All Might takes another step towards him. Now they're less than three feet apart, and he still hasn't taken another step back. It's like he's being hypnotized.

Everything but the one thing he wants above everything else. Some incentive. But wait - no limitations on his end?

There's something All Might wants. Something he's not letting on, but Todoroki knows a trap when he sees it. Is All Might bluffing? Hoping the astronomical absurdity of this wager will make him fold? And if so, _why?_

He feels off-kilter, reeling like a punch-drunk boxer. But there's no way he'll let All Might know how badly he's gotten to him.

"How do you decide the winner?" he asks, playing for time.

There's a flash of surprise on All Might's face, quickly smoothed over. So he hadn't even thought that far, huh? Expected Todoroki to outright reject it. That must mean that this course of action isn't the one that he expected to take after all.

After a moment's pause, All Might says, "Whoever gets an erection first."

"You think I'm gonna get hard kissing you, All Might?" Todoroki sneers.

All Might only grins crookedly at him. "I never said you couldn't play dirty to get a result. Do we have a deal?"

His mind races. He's looking for an angle, trying to hook his claws into the crack that will allow him to peel back All Might's armor. Why is he doing this? What could he possibly have to gain, other than Todoroki's silence? He must know that Todoroki will die before letting himself be humiliated like this -

_Yes_.

Maybe that's exactly what he wants. To humiliate the new number one into his place. To play at intimacy, to wring an unwilling reaction from him that can be used as a lash to keep him in line.

If he loses, All Might will have him exactly where he wants him.

There's a lot at stake, but Todoroki has never felt less aroused in his life. His pride and honor are on the line. Will he be able to live with himself if he refuses?

Will All Might win if he says no?

He decides to trust his instincts.

"Deal."

Before his resolve can drain into disgust, he attacks. All Might's back hits the wall, the nape of his neck cradled in Todoroki's hand for maximum leverage. His first impulse is to turn it into something feral, punishing All Might with a bit of pain - but no. Intelligence wins out. If he is to secure victory, he needs to kiss the way he thinks All Might would want to be kissed.

So how _would _All Might want to be kissed?

The bravado put on for the public has a veneer of toughness, but he's seen the way the man looks at his students. Mushy, sentimental, betraying a tender heart. Yes, All Might would want to be _romanced_.

So Todoroki woos him.

When his lips touch All Might's, he keeps the pressure light, experimental. Sampling the flesh beneath his. When his tongue presses to All Might's chapped lips, it's all he can do to keep pushing forward; he squeezes his eyes shut, repressing a shudder.

_No. Don't think like that_. He can't win if he doesn't approach this differently. Kissing All Might is no different than kissing a woman, lips are lips. He wrestles the emotion down.

I _will _win!

Stoking the fire of competitiveness works; he pours his enthusiasm into the kiss, moving in ways he hasn't tried since his high school flings. When All Might grips the back of his head in return he growls, pushing tongue against tongue.

Despite his resolve, it's not long before he tires of kissing. Hot breath blowing into each others faces, the taste of another's mouth - it quickly becomes more than he wants to deal with. He pulls his head away. Tilting All Might's chin, he spies the long whipcord of muscle that jumps at his neck and targets it, sucking at the sweat-dampened flesh.

He can hear panting breaths blowing past his left ear. It's hard to tell if the rapid respirations are from exertion or more, but he isn't going to be the first to put his hand on another man's dick to check.

Wetness tickles his earlobe. He resists flinching away, even when teeth graze the flesh and the soft sucking sounds in his ear. God, that might even be worse than kissing.

Thankfully All Might doesn't linger. He pulls off Todoroki and plants kisses along his jaw towards his throat. The man is positively catlike; he nuzzles Todoroki's neck and then laps lightly at it before mimicking Todoroki's actions and sucking at the muscle like a man sucking the last meat off of a turkey drumstick. He almost feels smug when All Might's hand slides down to cup his groin.

_No, not enjoying that in the slightest. _

But being felt up still irks him, so he pushes All Might back against the wall and pins him there with one leg slotted in the vee of his hips. There's no way he'll take control.

How long they kiss, he isn't sure. He only knows that it's too damn long for his liking, and with each passing second it's harder and harder to restrict his first impulses. Each kiss is rougher than the last, and when he sucks All Might's neck it's hard enough to leave a red spray of dots on the skin where capillaries have burst.

Just _get hard, dammit!_

This time it's he who grips All Might's crotch, rubbing him through the ridiculously baggy fabric of his pants.

Wait.

Is that-

He continues his massage for a moment, feeling All Might's cock springing to life beneath his fingers. Though his face is currently buried in the other man's neck, there's no mistaking the rigid warmth there. He squeezes, just to make sure then steps back.

There's an obvious tent in All Might's pants.

The triumph that crashes through him is more potent than any aphrodisiac. He had _won!_ All Might stands before him, red-faced and sheepish and looking towards his feet.

"Looks like you lost." He can't stop the smile from overtaking his face. Wild joy rages through him; despite the fact that he can't force him from his retirement, he has the man here, in front of him, undone in a way that no one has ever seen him.

"It seems I did." All Might grins, a weak twitch of his lips that doesn't meet his eyes.

Now he can ask anything of him. Anything at all.

But what?

Really, the answer is as simple as it is repulsive. All Might had attempted to humiliate him using sex as a weapon; therefore, it's only logical that he return the favor.

"So, what do you want me to-"

"Kneel." He heads the other man off with the curt order, heart beginning to quicken. What's about to happen is something All Might will never admit to, something so disgraceful he'll never regain that untouchable place in Todoroki's mind.

And it's something only they will know.

All Might goes to his knees. Even at this height he's tall enough that his forehead reaches nearly to Todoroki's chest before he settles back on his heels.

"Suck me."

He doesn't move. Doesn't even flinch as All Might's hands reach for his belt, then stutters over the button of his jeans. He watches everything intently, wanting to sear every moment of this encounter into his memory forever.

As All Might pulls him through the flap in his boxers, he waits with bated breath.

The mouth that closes over him is lukewarm. Nothing compared to the Hellfire that runs through Todoroki's veins. All Might's cheeks, already hollow, deepen further as he sucks. His hands alight gently on Todoroki's thighs, as if hesitant to touch him.

He's sucking hard, hard enough that blood is drawn inexorably into Todoroki's cock.

"You've done this before."

The lack of teeth, the knowing press of his tongue - there's no way this is the first time All Might's sucked cock. The knowledge is surprising; though he had never given two shits about any hero's sexual identity, the fact that All Might could be anything other than ramrod straight has never crossed his mind.

He gives voice to this opinion.

"Never took you for a queer, All Might. Was all your posturing with the ladies an act?" The derision is there, unmistakable, though the emotions he feels are softened by the sensation pulsing through him. Pleasure is beginning to simmer beneath his skin, stoked however unwillingly by All Might's mouth and fingers.

With a pert _pop_, All Might pulls away. "Does it matter?"

_Got you._

"Did I say you could stop?"

He's almost hoping All Might will take offense and get mouthy, but all he does is bend his head obligingly back down. Threading his fingers through the long waves of blonde hair, Todoroki takes control of All Might's head, turning it into a proper face-fuck. He wants to see how much the former number one can handle.

All Might takes it all in stride, slobbering and gasping around his cock. Todoroki can close his eyes and imagine that those wet, filthy sloppy sounds are being wrung from softer, more curvaceous lips - at least until the moment a low groan vibrates through his most sensitive bits. He looks down to see All Might rubbing the heel of his palm over his crotch.

"You're enjoying this, huh?" He pushes All Might off, tipping him over backward onto the futon so that he's forced to catch himself with both hands. Right foot placed squarely over All Might's erection, he curls his toes over the hard heat pressing urgently against the fly there.

If he enjoyed that, he's going to love what comes next.

"Strip."

All Might complies, but Todoroki notices that each article of clothing comes off slower than the previous one. When at last he's down to a pair of tented red boxers he hesitates, thumbs his fingers into the waistband and then draws them down swiftly, chucking them towards his closet before kneeling with alacrity. His hands pause just over his groin, before settling over his knees.

Clearly, he wants to hide. Endeavor can't understand why; All Might's cock is enormous. Pinked as the scars marring his ribcage, curving in a gentle arc, it's long enough to poke at the taut skin just above his navel. It would've been poetic justice if the man had been packing light, but of course, even in this Todoroki can't win.

"Get on all fours facing the wall," he orders sourly.

When All Might's skinny shanks are facing him, Todoroki kneels down himself and pulls the round globes of All Might's ass apart. The wrinkled skin staring back at him is a shade darker than the creamy paleness of the rest of his flesh, surrounded by a smattering of pale blonde hairs. It's an asshole, all right. _All Might's_ asshole. It contracts to a starlike bud as he pulls the skin taut.

"You have lube?" he asks.

"Yes, I think so. Should be in the bathroom under the sink. Do you want me to get it?"

He doesn't bother to answer, merely pads toward the indicated doorway attached to All Might's bedroom. As he rifles through the various bottles of cleaning products and toiletries, he strokes himself idly. At last he finds it - a small blue bottle, maybe one-fourth full. He turns it over in his hands, first to register the brand and then to look for the small black print that indicates it's expiry.

He finds it, eyes widening.

"Jesus, All Might. This shit has to be ten years out of date!" Unless All Might's in the habit of going in dry, the only way he's still got something this old lying around is because he never used it.

As if echoing his thoughts, All Might laughs."You think I have time to get laid?"

There's just a hint of derision in his tone, which Todoroki quells with a hard slap to one ass cheek. "I didn't say you could talk."

He drizzles a line of lube over himself, then spreads one of All Might's cheeks again and splashes liquid down All Might's crack, right over his anus. He slicks himself with a few pumps of his hands, then presses the tip of his cock to the small aperture, pressing forward to pop the head through the ring.

It's a tight fit. Clearly the man doesn't normally do this, a thought that gives him grim pleasure. It will make this encounter all the more significant.

He's never been with a man before, but he's not an idiot. Endeavor knows how sex works. And most importantly, he knows that it's possible for it to be pleasurable for them both; there's a reason so many men like to take it up the ass, after all. He'll exploit that to its fullest.

As he rocks into All Might he feels the other stiffen, muscles going taut and ropey under his fingers. He's squeezing down so tightly that Todoroki thinks that if he tried to slip out right now he'd strip the skin right off his dick, so he digs the pads of his thumbs into All Might's back, willing heat through them to force the muscles to laxity.

When at last the spasm stops, he works the rest of the way in and pauses to take a breath - tension is already beginning to build in his groin, its been too damn long - and then pulls out completely.

All Might relaxes perceptibly.

_Hurts, doesn't it?_

Fortunately for him, hurt is not Todoroki's aim today. He drizzles the remaining lube over All Might and himself then presses in again, gratified by the lack of resistance this time. He gives one tentative thrust.

It's like a watershed breaking open. Sensation roars up like a wave, a shockwave of pure pleasure that blows away his rage and frustration and leaves nothing in its place but relentless need. He thrusts again, rocking All Might so hard that he has to brace himself against the wall.

Chasing after the sensation, Todoroki quickly accelerates until he's pounding All Might into the mattress. Jerky grunts shudder out from below, sounds he's not quite sure are pleasure or pain. Whatever they are, he doesn't care right now; all his machinations have gone right out the window. There's no space in his brain for anything but pure sensation, and the freedom is bliss.

Like all good things, it seems destined to end too soon.

His strokes become choppier as the bubble of tension in him swells, threatening to burst - and suddenly beneath him All Might swells too, scrawny frame ballooning in an instant to the muscled back as familiar to him as his own Quirk.

He stops, considering the development, then pulls out entirely.

"Turn over," he demands, feeling the first tendrils of real lust kindling. All Might complies, rolling to reveal the face Todoroki knows; this is the true Symbol of Peace, spread before him right now.

"Legs up!"

God, he's never imagined the man like this. The dominant hero now subservient, willing - if the erection straining against his belly is to be believed - and ripe for the taking.

And Todoroki _will_ have him.

He grips All Might's thighs and slides back in. The pause has given his brain the chance to catch up with him, and now as he remembers his original plan, he sets to it.

The prostate. If he remembers rightly from that first, highly uncomfortable exam, it should be in and towards the front of the body.

He experiments with thrusts, tilting his hips at different angles until one push sends a visible quake through All Might.

"_Uhn!" _

The sound is guttural, wrung from deep All Might's his throat. It almost sounds pained, but the sudden jump of the hero's cock guides him to a different conclusion.

"Soft spot, All Might?" he taunts, repeating the motion. All Might refuses to answer, turning his head to muffle himself against his upraised arm. Todoroki seizes on that small action, fierce triumph flaring in his chest like gasoline going up in flames.

"Move your head," he demands, waiting for the moment those hollow eyes meet his. "I wanna hear it."

Then he snaps his hips again.

Now he takes his time, working All Might over. It's not about his pleasure now.

Everything begins to blend together; only snapshots of this moment will be burned into his brain, to be reviewed later. Broad hands twisted into the bedding. A tendril of precome stretching from the tip of All Might's cock to puddle on his belly. The primal slap of flesh on flesh, punctuated with groans so low and filthy he knows he'll never watch another porn that can compare.

This is how it was meant to be. All Might moaning like a bitch in heat for his cock, that powerful body wracked by quakes as Todoroki pounds into him.

_Who knew the hero could make noises like that?_

What would the world say if they could see the Symbol of Peace like this?

No.

He doesn't want anyone to see this. It's meant for his eyes only.

The pleasure building in him crests all too quickly. On the knife's edge, he hunches, burying his face the curve of his rival's neck. All Might whimpers - fucking _whimpers!_ \- in his ear, his legs clutching Todoroki's sides as he rocks his hips up to squeeze them together. The thick muscle jumping in his neck is too tempting to ignore; Todoroki sinks his teeth into it, feeling All Might's surprised yelp resonate against his lips. He comes like a bullet train, burying himself so deeply into his rival's body that he's not sure he'll ever make it back out.

When every last drop had been wrung from him, he collapses, panting. He becomes aware of the humid fog of sweat rising off of both of them, the sultry stink of sex clinging like perfume. He pulls out, rolls off and props himself on one arm, observing his rival.

All Might is quivering, cock still full and twitching against his belly. Come drips from his ass, blood drips down his neck; Todoroki hadn't realized how deeply he had bitten. On a whim, he leans in, swiping his tongue over the oozing punctures.

Pure salt and copper, a mineral tang as primal as the scent of their coupling.

_Mine._

Rolling the flavor in his mouth, he settles back to savor the taste of victory. If only All Might could see how desperate he looks - how wanton; Todoroki thinks he could ask almost anything of him at this moment, and it would be given.

He decides to be merciful. "Touch yourself."

All Might pulls himself off with three quick strokes, spending himself all over his chest and stomach. Then, almost as quickly as he had come, he explodes in a puff of steam, reverting to the wasted form Todoroki is coming to despise.

The change wracks a cough from his rival, one that is muffled quickly. But not quickly enough for him to miss the blot of red that spreads across All Might's palm before it's folded into a fist.

The silence between them spirals, thick and suffocating as superheated steam. All Might is watching him almost expectantly and Todoroki doesn't know what to say; he's empty as a spent shell casing.

"What're you looking at?" he grumbles, just to break brittle silence.

"N-nothing." All Might looks towards the bathroom, then back to him. "I'll be right back."

As the door closes behind him, Todoroki scrambles to his feet, pulling on his clothes as fast as humanly possible. Ideally, he'd like to be gone before All Might's done inside, but when he goes to grab his cap he realizes that his pullover and shirt are both clumped ash on the man's floor.

Fuck.

He returns to the bedroom, aggravated by his error.

_Just another casualty of that fiery temper._ Hawks' voice, bright and silvery with amusement drifts through his mind. _This is what you get for not thinking ahead._

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Todoroki glances back into All Might's closet, tempted to just snatch a shirt and go.

_Coward. Don't tuck tail and run!_

No. No, after all this his pride demands he stay. So he does, waiting for the moment that the bathroom door opens and All Might waddles out, still totally naked. A white bandage is plastered on his neck, thick and conspicuous.

His gaze meets Todoroki's for an instant before his rival looks down, hands moving like he wants to cover himself. He falters, then bends to pick up his underwear.

_Not much use in hiding what I've already seen._

As All Might dresses Todoroki tries to think up the best way to phrase his request. "I need a shirt" sounds too much like a demand, but he hesitates to soften it. He's the one in charge here, after all. Aggravated by his own indecision, he glares at All Might's knees and digs his fingers into his palms.

All Might is more perceptive than he gives him credit for. His eyes widen. Moving past Todoroki he rifles through his closet and comes up with a faded gray t-shirt. Todoroki snatches it and slides it on.

It fits loosely, a size too big.

Mildly aggrieved by something he can't quite put his finger on, he looks to All Might, wanting to say something. _Anything. _

Dark-rimmed eyes blink down at him. His rival looks very old, very tired, and at that moment, absolutely nothing at all like All Might. He's just a skeletal giant with no power and no idea what he's done to Todoroki's control. Suddenly he can't be there any longer. Can't tolerate even one more minute.

Turning on his heel he heads for the door, catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye as he does. A quick tilt of his head catches All Might's hand outstretched, hanging in the air between them like a question.

"I know the way out."

He hopes that All Might has enough sense to read between the lines. When he is not followed, he thinks that perhaps he does.

Slamming the door behind him, Todoroki takes long, earth-eating steps away from All Might's apartment. He ignores the buzz of his phone, too intent on absolutely, positively _not _looking back.

He keeps his head down, eyes on the ground. For the first time in weeks, he feels clear-headed. The fog of rage has lifted, leaving a curious emptiness; a well that is beginning to fill with the first cold trickles of shame.

Snarling to the empty air, he quickens his stride, heedless of the civilians he barrels through.

He had just fucked All Might.

_He_ had just fucked_ All Might._

_The number one hero on his knees, eyes half-lidded and warm mouth sucking him down endlessly. That thick body beneath him, shuddering and quaking with the force of his thrusts. The glassy-eyed, slack-jawed face of ultimate pleasure as All Might burst wetly into his own fist._

His groin pulses with heat at the mere remembrance of what had just occurred, a delicious echo that twists his stomach viciously. He feels nauseous. Worse still he feels conflicted, mounting mortification now bursting through the cracks in a dam he hadn't even known existed.

He's owned the most powerful man in the world in every way possible - so _why _does he feel so fucking hollow?

Feet hammering the ground at a pace just below a run, Todoroki forces himself through the lunchtime crowd, knocking elbows and shoulders without so much as an apology.

All Might is his now.

His phone is still buzzing insistently. Pulling it out he sees the bright, bouncing green icon of an incoming call from his agency and the peripheral notifications that tell him he's already missed 9 such calls, and about 11 text messages. Shit.

He swipes a finger up, answering the call. "Yeah?"

"Endeavor. I've been trying to reach you for the last hour, where have you been?"

The dry rasp of his field agent, Suzu. The man was toeing a line, taking that tone with him.

"Doesn't matter, I'm here now. What is it?"

"It was a monster, sir. One of those nomu things that appeared in Hosu City! It appeared in lower Musutafu, did some damage but then disappeared as soon as Kamui Woods and Yoroi Musha showed up."

_Lower Musutafu?_ That feels dangerously close to home, enough so that he feels a brief moment of panic. But none of the notifications on his phone had been from the home security system - it must be fine, then. He takes a breath, calming the racing gallop of his heart.

Well, shit. Now of all times, and he had missed it. The press would have fun with that, no doubt - as if he gave two shits about what they said. Imagine the tabloid headlines if anyone caught on to what he had _really _been up to instead of investigating villains.

"Damage?"

"Not much. No civilians hurt. It seemed more like...recon." Suzu sounded confused, a little doubtful. He knew that nomu were allegedly unintelligent beings. "I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah. Thanks. Call me if it shows up again." He hangs up the phone abruptly, no longer interested now that he knows the threat has ended. Nomus are concerning, but until they start attacking he has much bigger concerns.

All Might.

Moans that had sounded like glass breaking on those lips; the way All Might had shattered with his orgasm had been in utter, crushing defeat. It should have been so sweet to see him broken.

But all he tastes is ash.

It's a long way back to the agency.


End file.
